


Teach Us Something Please

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter AU, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 04:02:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19881304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: The Darkness spreads across the wizarding world until even Hogwarts is threatened. When Hogwarts Librarian Belle French discovers a book that may lead her to the answer to their prayers, she finds more than she bargained for in the powerful Seer Rumplestiltskin. The deal they make to save Hogwarts will seal their own fates as well.--Nominated for Best RCIJ in 2019 T.E.A's-





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheStraggletag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStraggletag/gifts).



> This is a gift for thestraggletag who prompted Hogwarts Professor AU. 
> 
> I used a lot of references from the books and tried to keep it true to both worlds as much as possible.

June

There was a light deep in the heart of the Forbidden Forest.

In this forgotten place, there were trees older than most civilizations but it had been eons since anything unknown to them had strayed this far into their dominion. Around them, the night was ripe and ready, potent with promise. It was just minutes from midnight and magic hung in the air as tangible as a summer berry ready to be plucked.

A branch creaked as a tree leaned closer to get a better look. The light spun, illuminating the inquisitive tree, but also revealing a witch’s young, pale face.

Her eyes were as bright as the bluejay’s breast.

Her hair a rich brown, the same shade as the maple wand she held in her hand.

Satisfied the creak had not foretold danger, the witch turned to continue forward, following the protected path deeper and deeper into the woods. As she arrived at a grove of aspens, the witch faltered for a moment, pausing to dig out a small book from her robes. Though there was no breeze, their silver leaves shivered and shook as the trees chatted amongst themselves. Nearby, a river gurgled and bubbled in interest.

Her wand tip lowered to the pages, revealing a scrawled map. The map was still, save for one small dot that was moving rapidly across the page. Keeping the book in one hand, the witch threw a cautious look over her shoulder before she carefully placed her wand in the palm of her hand. “Point me,” she whispered.

The wand hurried to obey. It spun once, twice, three times before it jerked to a stop sixty degree to her right. Well off the path. With a weary sigh, the witch continued onward, casting occasional glances to her right but keeping the octavo open in her hand.

Bound in black leather and stitched with golden thread, at first glance, the book looked like any other Hufflepuff memoir. Perhaps why it had been left undisturbed for over a century, hidden in plain sight amongst the other books in the library.

As the Hogwart’s librarian, Belle French had numerous obligations to the school. First and foremost to make sure its students were safe. Books could be very dangerous things, and even the most unassuming book could cause lasting harm to the unwary. After all, knowledge was a dangerous thing.

The book in her hand was an excellent example. If Belle had not been searching for some light reading on Bridget Wenlock, she may not have ever noticed the small book. It had been nestled in amongst the countless Helga Hufflepuff biographies and Belle had assumed that was what it was as well. That was until she had lifted it to get a better view and felt the tingle of dark magic race down her spine.

Pushing cautiously through the overgrown branches barring the path, Belle was careful to keep on the trail. Robin had warned what might happen if she stepped so much of a toe out of the protective wards. He had wanted to go with her, but the book was clear: only a winged maiden of sound mind would be able to seek and find.

Seek and find were the words of the book. A winged maiden could have meant anything but Belle suspected it meant a daughter of Ravenclaw. She was not descended from the line but she had been sorted into the house. She hoped that would be enough. As of sound mind… she felt far from sane at the moment.

“Are you sure about this?” Professor Lucas had demanded when Belle had started asking questions about the forest. The Care of Magical Creatures Professor knew all too well what lurked in the forest during the full moon.

The attack had been two summers ago now. Ruby had been lucky to escape with her life. While parents had not been keen on a werewolf teaching their children, Headmistress Ghorm had pointed out there was hardly a better-suited teacher for the role. Thus, Professor Lucas had been allowed to stay, with some safety measures in place.

As if sensing her thoughts, there was a howl in the distance. In answer, a branch broke nearby as something hurtled through the underbrush. Belle froze, waiting until it had passed. After several long minutes, when nothing stirred, she began again, but her heart was thudding sickeningly in her chest.

She walked on for what felt like hours, occasionally stopping to check the map. The dot on the map had come to a stop up ahead but she was still a fair ways away and the path was overgrown and slick. Belle had cloaked her steps to make no noise but her feet were sore and her back grew tight. She was pressing on- when all at once, the path stopped.

A great tree had fallen across the path. The trunk was nearly seven feet high on its side. Belle considered it for a moment. She could easily levitate over it or remove it from the path entirety but she suspected that was exactly what something wanted her to do. Upon closer inspection, she saw the tree had been recently felled. She hoped and despaired all at once.

Steeling her spine, she spoke into the wind. “I seek the one who sees all,” she said to the gloom surrounding her. “Let the seer be seen.”

The wind rustled the branches, and for a moment, the only answer was the shivering of leaves. Belle bent her head back to the book, murmuring a sharp “Lumos.”

The tip of her wand flared brightly as a torch, illuminating not only the map but the face of something reptilian and cruel which sat crouched at her feet. Belle would have shot backward, and nearly did so, before she recalled nothing could hurt her on the path.

Still, she trembled when she lifted her wand out towards the creature to find it safely outside the path’s border. Belle released the breath she had been holding when it stood, revealing it to be more man than creature.

“You would look upon the seer,” it hissed. “Look your fill and then release me. I have my own business this eve that does not pertain to you, child.”

Belle’s fingers were thick and clumsy as she raised her free hand to the neckline of her robe. Slowly, she pulled at the chain at her neck until it fell free, revealing what appeared to be a small charm. It was shaped like a crooked lightning bolt but on closer inspection was a dagger. It was heavier than it should be and cold as ice against her skin despite the warm night air and her evening exertion.

An artifact of untold power with the only clue to its purpose the single word etched into its surface. Few wizards or witches would have recognized it for what it was, but Belle had delved deep into the tomes detailing the darkest of arts. When it had fallen out of the octavo’s pages, Belle had suspected it for what it was the darkest of dark magic.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” Belle said, faltering slightly as she recited the unfamiliar word writ upon the dagger. “I name you.”

A crooked smile revealed jagged, yellow teeth. “As did my mother.”

“Dark powers are gathering. War is coming.”

“It is already here,” the creature told her cheerfully. “And it will fall upon Hogwarts before the next summer solstice.”

It was as if he was stating a fact and not the end of the world as she knew it. Belle lifted her chin. “I have need of a seer. Need of you, the one connected to the Darkness but unbent to its will. I have sought you out to free you from your binds.”

“And how do you know I am what you say I am?”

Belle held up the book. It had been vague in details in some places, but rich in others. It had spoken of the seer, a creature tainted by the Darkness, bound to the Forbidden Forest.

Belle bit the inside of her cheek. “I am here to seek and find-”

“Seek and find?” he began to laugh. “All you have found is death. I see your end, child. Alone. Afraid. Surrounded by books. Blood seeping into their pages. You are still. You do not move.”

If he thought to scare her with foretellings of death, he misjudged her. “So, I will not die here tonight at your hands,” she said with a grave nod. “Good. Then, we can speak frankly.”

Belle transfigured a nearby branch into a chair. “Tell me how you came to be bound to the Darkness.”

He raised a clawed talon to his breast, raking the sharp claws down his scaled chest as he considered her. There were remnants of leather hide clinging to his arms and shoulders but they were in tatters, shredded. Belle wondered how long he had been out here.

“Four centuries,” he answered, golden eyes unblinking. “As for my origins, I sought protection from the Darkness by joining with it and found more than I had bargained. I found power beyond telling, a power that meant I would never be afraid again. The cost was madness.”

“You don’t seem insane to me.”

He cackled as he sank back down into a crouch. “Says the child who wandered into the woods alone. Haven’t you ever heard of what happens to maidens who enter the Forbidden Forest?”

“I am no maiden,” Belle said curtly. “Now, as I was saying-”

“Where did you find that?” He gestured to the book which was now open in her lap.

“That would be telling,” Belle responded just as blithely. “Why do you want to know?”

Without warning, his hand shot out as if to grab for her. Belle leaned backward, nearly toppling over in her transfigured chair. His talons stopped just shy of her.

He was grinning. “I am tied to that damnable piece of steel. I have searched every inch of this forest. I have dug through the dirt, broken stones, climbed to the top of trees. I have plundered the bottom of the Black Lake and for not. A spell has been placed upon it, binding me to this land. Even if I wished to join the gathering Darkness, I could not so long as that dagger remained out of my possession. So, I will ask you again, where did you find it, child?”

“I am not a child,” Belle snapped, losing her patience as usual. “I am the head librarian of Hogwarts-”

“The library!” Rumpelstiltskin hissed. “A dirty trick. He knew I could not cross the castle’s wards.”

“Who knew?” Belle was annoyed at herself for giving it away, even unintentionally. She would have to be more careful.

“My son,” he spat. “All I did, I did for him. But he could not see past what I had become. He bound me here, left me here to rot.”

Belle swallowed. “Then, attend me well. I have a deal for you.”

“Oh?” He sidled closer. “ I like deals. What shall it be? You wish for freedom. To see the world. You wish for knowledge. You thirst for adventure. You long for something more-”

“This is not about me,” she snapped, afraid of what he might reveal. “This is about the fate of the wizarding world.”

“Spare me,” he said with a shake of his head. “It is none to me what happens to it. I ceased caring long ago, child.” He gestured to his tattered clothing. “I have my problems.”

“Then, I have a beneficial solution for us both. Come teach at Hogwarts,” she proposed.

“Teach?” he hooted. “Teach what, child? The Dark Arts?”

“Divination,” Belle replied as the pieces fell into place. “Our divination professor foresaw her death and fled. The students leave for summer term shortly. Come on the first of July. If you swear no harm shall come to anyone who calls Hogwarts home, the wards will be open to you.”

“And why would I want to do that?” he snarled. Saliva dripped down from his curled lip. “You would have me swap one cage for another,” he murmured. “A nicer cage, true, but a cage nonetheless. Give me freedom.”

Freedom would allow the seer to return to the Darkness from which its power originated. And with a seer as powerful as the creature before her...whose very existence thrummed and hummed with secrets of the past, present and what would be...if Belle freed this being from its binds, she would condemn all of wizardkind.

Belle shook her head. “I cannot do that.”

“You could,” it sang, sliding back into the shadows.

Belle took a risk. “It very well might be swapping one cage for another, but this cage has running water.”

Rumpelstiltskin scoffed.

Belle pressed on. “If there is to be a battle, you may do as you like, fight or flee back to the forest. All I ask in return is that you give us counsel. Warn us of what you see.”

Warn you? Very well. I’ve seen you,” he said quietly. All traces of insanity and monstrosity vanished. “If you offer your hand to me, I will take it. But,” he held up a finger and wagged it at her. “Once I take it, you will never be free of me.”

Belle cocked her head to the side. It did not sound like a threat...more of a warning. “I’ve come all this way,” she told him. “If my freedom is the cost of knowledge, so be it.”

She reached her hand out across the path border.

When his scaled fingers curled over her’s, they were warm.

July

A cup of lukewarm tea was cradled in her hands. Belle had barely touched it, too caught up in searching the forest line, waiting with bated breath for Rumpelstiltskin to emerge. She had been waiting since morning. Hours had passed and now the light was fading as the sun started to sink in the western sky.

It had been a long two weeks. She had emerged from the Forbidden Forest the morning of the Summer Solstice and gone straight to the Headmistress. Reul Ghorm was one of the most powerful witches in the wizarding world as well as the wisest but it took all of Belle’s collective powers of persuasion, stubbornness and determination to get the Headmistress to agree to let the seer into the castle, much less award him a role on the teaching staff.

In the end, Belle had not been completely forthright. She had shared the book, told the story of her encounter with the Seer in the forest, and shared her plans to use his powers to continue to protect Hogwarts. But she had left out his true name and the matter of the dagger currently hanging around her neck.

Footsteps approached from around the back of the groundskeeper’s hut. She turned to find a wizard standing over her, but not the one she was expecting.

Robin hoisted his son, Roland, upon his hip and nodded toward the untouched cup in her hand. “My tea’s not that bad, is it?”

“Bad tea, Daddy,” the toddler insisted, struggling to get down.

Belle shook out of her reverie and stood. She murmured a wordless apology as she swapped the teacup for Roland, gathering the boy in her arms. His curls, so like his mother’s, tickled her nose. A rush of sorrow washed over her as she thought of Marian. She would have understood.

To hide the sadness in her eyes, Belle pressed a kiss to Roland’s forehead, and the boy giggled. “Down, Belle!” he begged but she didn’t dare let him down to run, no matter how much he wiggled and whined.

The sound of someone else approaching caused her heart to jump up into her throat. But the figure was coming from the castle, not the woods, draped in a familiar red cloak. “No sign?” Ruby called out as she neared the hut.

Belle shook her head. She should have known Rumpelstiltskin would keep her waiting. If he was even coming at all-

“Do you have such little faith in me?” came Rumpelstiltskin’s voice from behind her.

Roland took one look at the scaled creature and began to wail. Robin had his wand in his hand in an instant but Rumpelstiltskin waved a lazy hand and the wand skittered out of Robin’s grip and flew high and far out of range. For a horrible moment, it looked as if Robin meant to tackle Rumpelstiltskin, who was already grinning nastily.

“You will do no harm to those who call Hogwarts home!” Belle reminded him over Roland’s terrified cries.

Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth at her just as Ruby’s spell hit him square in the chest. He froze before teetering backward to crash across the kitchen table at his back. Cookery went everywhere as the petrification totalus spell kept the Dark One from twitching so much as a muscle to stop his fall.

“Ruby!” Belle cried out as the Gryffindor came charging to the rescue. She accio-ed Robin’s wand as she charged past Belle into the hut. Belle couldn’t get to her wand to stop them, not with a screaming Roland nearly choking her in his terror. Small bursts of magic were emanating from the toddler, which could turn dangerous quickly. “Stop! He wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

At her exclamation, Robin and Ruby paused in the doorway, between her and Rumpelstiltskin. The two Gryffindors considered the creature bound on the floor but they did not sheath their wands.

Belle pushed past them, handing the sobbing Roland to his father. “Take him outside,” she murmured, patting the boy’s back as he clutched at Robin’s shoulders.

The groundskeeper looked as if he might argue but he only cast one last look at the creature on his hut’s floor, surrounded by shards of wood and pottery before he did as she suggested. Belle could hear him murmuring platitudes as he attempted to calm Roland down.

Belle knelt among the ruins of the table, careful to keep her face in clear view. The dagger free from her robe’s neckline “Rumpelstiltskin,” she greeted. “Took you long enough.”

“Belle,” Ruby wheedled, clearly frustrated. “This doesn’t feel right. We should get Mary Margaret. ”

Belle didn’t need a host of well-intentioned Gryffindors telling her what to do. “Give me a minute,” she said over her shoulder. When Ruby did not move from the doorway, she sighed and stood. “Ruby, please,” she said quietly, though she did not doubt Rumpelstiltskin could hear every word. “You said you’d trust me on this.”

“I trust you,” Ruby said, looking over her. “I don’t trust that thing.”

“Ruby,” Belle said softly, hearing the loathing in Ruby’s voice. “He’s not the creature that bit you.” Her hands were gentle as she laid them upon Ruby’s right forearm.

The witch wrenched her arm away, holding it protectively. “Could have been one of his pets,” she argued. “That’s just what I mean, Belle. It’s evil.”

Belle did not feel much like arguing. She had her doubts about all of this, but it did not change the facts. They had sent the students home across Great Britain and every day she woke wondering which ones may not come back.

“He can help,” was all she said.

“Yes, because he’s a great and powerful seer,’ Ruby mocked. “He doesn’t seem all that powerful if he didn’t even see a second-year level spell coming straight at him.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Belle whispered, all too aware he could hear every word. “Don’t you remember anything from Divination classes?”

Ruby bristled. “I’ve been more interested in astronomy these days, so forgive me if I don’t recall the intricacies of fortune-telling.” She brandished her hands out at Belle, palms facing upwards. “Remind me. Where’s the line that says I was going to turn into a bloodthirsty animal every month for the rest of my life?”

Belle’s temper flared. “You went out into the woods to find what was killing the unicorns. No one made you-”

“I went out there to stave off the Darkness from encroaching into Hogwarts-”

“And I did the same exact thing!” Belle finished breathlessly. “I went out in the woods, the same as you, for the same reason.”

There was no more time to cross one’s fingers and hope for the best. They had to defend themselves, defend Hogwarts. With knowledge. With foresight. With whatever they could.

“I had to at least try. We,” she added. “We have to at least try. I’m not saying you have to like this...but access to a true seer...one linked with the Darkness but not bent to it? It’s not much...but it’s more than we had before.”

Ruby stared at the creature on the floor for a long, long moment. Finally, she nodded but she wouldn’t meet Belle’s eyes. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Belle.”

Me too, Belle thought miserably but she managed a smile. “Go help Robin?” she suggested gently. Outside, Roland’s crying was only growing louder and pops of what sounded like fireworks were starting to go off.

Ruby disappeared back out into the warmth of the early evening, leaving Belle alone with Rumpelstiltskin. Her hand went to the dagger around her neck, a constant chill against her skin.

Taking a deep breath, Belle turned to kneel back down beside the seer but she did not take off Ruby’s spell, not yet. His eyes were calculating, something hidden deep in their depths. “I hope you can help,” she said quietly. “Merlin’s beard, I hope you can help.”

She murmured “finite” and braced herself for an attack, physical or magical but none came.

Rumpelstiltskin merely raised himself to a sitting position and took a look around the hut. “What a sty,” he grumbled and with a casual wave of his left hand, everything straightened around them. The shattered table repaired itself, the crockery mending. The sink suddenly splashed to life, submerging the dirty dishes in soapy water as the soot started to scoot across the floor and out the door.

“His wife died last fall,” Belle said as she got to her feet. “She went to Diagon Alley for a pixie deterrent for the pumpkin patch. She didn’t come back.”

Belle offered a hand to help him up but the Seer did not take it. He rose to his own feet in a graceful motion, dusting off his leather breeches as if he had not been utterly at her mercy moments ago. “Explains his less than hospitable hosting skills.”

“He’s had a rough time of it.”

“And what’s the werewolf’s excuse?” he grumbled.

“She gets a bit...snappy around the full moon,” Belle said with a shrug. “We’ve gotten used to it.”

His strange golden eyes flickered to the sunlight where the two Gryffindors stood. They were both waving their wands so hundreds of colorful bubbles billowed out of the tips. Roland ran between them, his head thrown back in laughter as he rushed one way than the other.

“Everyone here has a story of being touched by the darkness,” Belle added quietly.

His eyes turned back to her. “And your story?”

Belle hesitated, just for a moment. “Ask me again at the end of this year,” she said quietly. “Come on, I’ll take you up to the castle. We set up rooms in the Divination Tower.”

August

The Charms professor was mad as a hatter.

That was the only reason Rumpelstiltskin could think of for why Jefferson had taken to coming to his office every day when most of the Hogwarts staff had decided to steer clear of him. All but the Charms Professor, the castle’s healer, and of course the librarian.

Rumpelstiltskin stood at the window, looking out across the Black Lake. The Giant Squid propelled along the surface, basking in the summer light as it had done for the past century. Behind him, Whale was reading the paper while Jefferson lounged on his back, spinning his hat idly round and round his finger.

“Someone spilled the beans,” Whale whistled as he folded the Daily Prophet and flung it over at Jefferson. The Slytherin caught it and flipped it open in one smooth motion without so much as missing a beat.

Rumpelstiltskin glanced over at the paper, and the photograph of a bombed-out building stared back at him. Flames flickered in black ink, the moment captured on magical film to be replayed over and over again for all of time. He turned away from it, back towards the sun, lifting his face to enjoy the Scottish summer breeze wash over him.

This he knew. This is he remembered. He had not forgotten the ways of wizardkind but a lot had changed since his Hogwarts days. He had spent the entirety of July ensconced in the tower reading whatever the Librarian had brought him and still wasn’t caught up.

Belle, a voice whispered in his head. Her name is Belle

She had not given him her name but he had heard it upon the lips of the others. Until she gave it to him herself, he would continue to call her the Librarian.

It had been what he had called her before he had known her.

He had known her the instant he had laid eyes upon her on the summer solstice. He had even warned her...and still, the foolish, brave girl had given him her hand. Sealing their fates.

How often had he seen her in his visions? The bright light at the end of the dark, long tunnel of his existence. He had seen their future, saw their lives entwined in ways he had not thought possible. His destiny stamped as clear as the printed word upon her fair face but he could not find the courage to give that truth voice. So, he told her of the other things he had seen: Her death. The fall of Hogwarts. Everything she was scared of.

But he left out the other parts. For those were the things that scared him.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice the first owl that flew by the window or the second. It may have been the fourth or even fifth owl he finally saw, but soon the entire sky was full of them. His brow furrowed at the flurry of wings. Jefferson joined him at the window, wordlessly handing him the paper.

The paper was opened to the headline “Newest Divination Teacher: Monstrous Minion of Darkness”. The article went on to explain in graphic detail how he had supposedly run off the old Divination Teacher (a young woman named Astrid Nova) and took her place, bewitching Headmistress Reul Ghorm and bending her to his will.

He tossed it aside. Ghorm had already been bent to the Darkness’s will. Even if she did not yet know it. He did not know how the Librarian had convinced that one to let him cross the castle boundary, but he suspected it was only a matter of time before the Darkness in the headmistress's heart overwhelmed her. He could see the shadows on her face whenever she gazed at him, considering, wondering. She would come to him by the end of the year with her questions.

There was a knock at the trap door. Ever polite, his Librarian. He waved a hand and the trap door flipped open for her to emerge with her daily peace offering, a tray of tea. “Master Whale,” she greeted as Victor took the tray from her. “Professor Jefferson.”

“The Dragon was just telling me my fortune,” Jefferson said with a sorrowful grin.

The Librarian knew all too well what his fortune entailed. Day after day, Jefferson only asked Rumpelstiltskin the same question. “And how does your Grace fair today?”

“Thriving,’ Jefferson answered proudly, though his sad smile did not brighten.

Jefferson and his family had encountered the Darkness early in its rise. After Jefferson had barely survived the attack that had claimed his wife, he had sent his only daughter to the continent to attend Beauxbatons, praying it would be far enough. She had not spoken to him since, nearly three years

“And you, Master Whale?” Belle asked, though not as warmly.

It was clear that the Librarian did not quite trust Whale’s interest in him. Rumpelstiltskin could have told her that Whale had lost a brother years ago and had kept his body in the hopes of finding some magic strong enough to reanimate him, to bring him back. But he doubted that would do much to alleviate her suspicions. The healer was harmless. For now.

“Happy to be here,” Victor responded flippantly. “But like all good things, my time with you all has come to an end. The Nolans are stopping by the infirmary for an informal check-up.”

The Defense against the Dark Arts professor and her husband were expecting their first. They had been going to St. Mungo’s but with the rise of violence in London, it did not surprise him that they had opted to stay closer to Hogwarts.

Rumpelstiltskin exposed his fangs in a grimacing smile. He did not care much for Mary Margret Nolan. She had been the most vocal against him taking residence in the castle and been a thorn in his side ever since. “Send along my congratulations,” he said as Victor started to descend the spiral staircase. “Emma is a lovely name.”

The Librarian sighed. “They were going to have it be a surprise,” she chastised him as Victor’s laughter floated back up to them.

“Oh?”

He wasn’t fooling her but he had come to enjoy teasing the smile out of her, it was happening more and more frequently these days, which should have worried him.

Jefferson cleared his throat. “I’ll go and give Leroy a hand with the owls,” he said with a tip of his hat. The trapdoor swung shut behind him, leaving the two of them alone.

“Owls?” she echoed in confusion. Rumpelstiltskin nodded towards the paper on the table. The Librarian picked it up, scanned the headline and groaned. “Curse her,” she muttered, tucking her hair behind her ear. He watched her from beneath his curtain of hair. The Librarian always wore her hair pulled back in a ponytail, using whatever scrap of ribbon was at hand, but tendrils always escaped to fall about her face. “I’m going to wring her neck for this. She knows how important you being here is-”

There was little love lost between the defense teacher and the librarian but he had not expected such violence on his behalf. “Pregnancy does strange things to the mind,” he said, remembering all too well his own wife’s pregnancy and the mood swings that had accompanied it back in the days before modern medicine’s miracles. “It matters not,” he said even as more owls flew by. “Hogwarts is still the safest place in England. Those who do not send their children put them at great peril.”

The Librarian poured a cup of tea, absently sending it floating over to him as she began to pour another. “I hope I was right about all this,” she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

He could have told her she was. That her destiny had been written long before she had been born, that she was following a path already laid out for her. But then she would ask him too many questions. He had did not always know when, just what would be.

So, he said nothing.

She let the paper drop to the table and sat in Jefferson’s vacated chair. Her fingers went to her throat, idly playing with the necklace hidden beneath her robes. “Why do you wear that?” he asked as he sat down across from her. “Inanimate magical objects can be dangerous things.”

“I’ve heard,” Belle said drily as her hand fell back to her lap. “I thought it better to keep it close than to risk it falling into the wrong hands.”

Rumpelstiltskin had thought the same thing. He could still remember the splitting pain...the emptiness that had never left him. To this day, he could feel the hole where his soul had been ripped away.

They didn’t say much after that. They took their tea in silence as owl after owl flew across the summer sky.


	2. Fall

September

The Start-of-Term Feast was a solemn affair.

Professor Nolan led a procession of small, frightened children into the hall. Each and every one of them stared up at the Great Hall ceiling in bewildered awe. Wide eyes took in the hundreds of candles that hung between them and the evening sky before they remembered to lower their eyes only to find hundreds of curious eyes upon them.

Rumpelstiltskin was one of those curious eyes. He watched from his predetermined seat at the high table as the First Years were paraded in. A few siblings waved from their house tables, but the First Years were too terrified to do much else but follow meekly behind the Transfiguration teacher. Rumpelstiltskin could smell the fear radiating off them, increasing tenfold whenever one raised their eyes to the high table only to meet his golden gaze.

“You might try a smile,” the Librarian whispered to him from where she sat on his right.

Knowing full well what she meant, he bared his fangs in a snarling grimace of a smile. One poor girl halted in her tracks, the three behind her running into her and nearly knocking her down.

“Oh, for Merlin’s-” she hissed just as the sorting hat split its lip and began to sing.

It was a silly song, full of asinine rhymes but there were messages for those who were listening. The hat warned of coming together, staying true to the spirit of Hogwarts, and to hold hands across the divide. Important warnings were buried underneath nonsense words like blibber, tweak, and grumpkin.

He cocked his head, ever so slightly, to take in the rest of the staff’s reaction. As he might have predicted, the Librarian’s hands were clenched in her lap as she listened, her face etched in grave concentration. The warnings were not lost on her. Nor the Potions Mistress.

That one intrigued him as well. Tall and fair, almost too beautiful for mortal man to look upon. But powerful underneath all that. Her half-sister, the Herbology Professor, had the same ethereal grace which meant their mother must have had Veela blood.

It ran stronger in the Potions mistress, judging by the way the widowed groundskeeper could not keep his eyes off her but was paying little attention to the redhead herbologist currently trying to whisper in his ear.

Professor Nolan stepped forward with a roll of parchment. It was barely long enough to dangle out of his fingers, an ominous sign of the wizarding world’s peril. In peacetime, there were children aplenty but in war… that was another matter.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” the deputy headmaster proclaimed. “Herman, Alexandra.”

A small girl with platinum blonde hair cut so short she could have been a boy approached the stool, eyeing the hat as if might bite her. The four houses whispered and shuffled, leaning close to see who might claim the first of the First Years.

The Librarian leaned over to him. “Her mother was a Hufflepuff. Father was a Ravenclaw.”

“She’s a pure-blood,” he added.

The Librarian nodded. “Yes, but how do you know that?”

“Blood tells,” he murmured. He had known the Herman name back in his day, an old and prosperous family. Wise and just but they had bred the power out of their family generations ago but there was strength in this girl. She did not flinch as the hat went over her head. It had barely covered her eyes before it screamed, “Hufflepuff!”

The table of black and yellow erupted in cheers. The other tables clapped politely for the badgers, but their eyes quickly went back to the next student. As the sorting continued, more and more students were noticing him. There were whispers, nudging elbows, pointed fingers until the Sorting Hat had to clear its throat imperiously. “If everyone could please wait to speculate about the new divination teacher,” it huffed out of sorts.

The student body hushed as the last of the few First Years came forward. A boy with red-rust hair went to Slytherin. One of the prefects mimed cutting his hair off to the laughter of the rest of the hall. A muggle-born girl went to Gryffindor, which roared its approval. And then finally, the last student came forward to be sorted. The hat deliberated for a long, long time before it finally called out: “Ravenclaw!”

The Librarian nearly leaped out of her seat clapping. Ravenclaw had only received three of the seventeen First Years. The child moved hurriedly to the table where they were quickly enfolded in welcoming chatter.

“Ravenclaw, hmm?” he said, though he had already known.

The Librarian settled back down with a pleased smile. “Head Girl,” she announced proudly. “Full marks.”

“And yet you chose to come back to Hogwarts as opposed to a career in the Ministry? Or even traveling abroad? Your talents would have come in handy in curse-breaking for Gringotts.”

Her face was open like a book, but she was growing used to his ability to read her past just as easily. “I was needed here,” was all she said with a simple shrug. And that was all too true, but he wondered how she had come to know that. “What house were you in?” she asked, surprising him. A rare feat but one she usually managed with alarming alacrity.

Before he could respond, Reul Ghorm got to her feet, spreading her arms wide. Her robe had been designed to open like wings behind her, the opulence catching in the candlelight and glowing translucent like stained glass. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts,” she sang. “I am delighted to see you all, old and new.” She cast a benevolent smile out to them like a benediction. “Eat and be joyful.”

The tables filled with food, including the plate before him. The house-elves had quickly learned his perchance for fish. Seared salmon sat upon a bed of greens, which he had no intention of eating but the damnable elves kept trying regardless. An entire lemon had been cut up for him and his goblet had refilled with dark ale, hearty enough to chew.

He made quick of his supper. Despite his magical prowess, he had known hunger for the past four centuries and was already growing thicker and stronger from the steady stream of food from the Hogwarts kitchens.

When finished, he started to scan the house tables. The Gryffindors were as they had always been, hale and hearty. The ghost of Sir Lancelot sat at their table, chatting amiably. He was the only ghost in attendance this evening, and the First Years kept sending fascinated glances his way.

That is when they weren’t openly staring at him.

The Ravenclaws were quieter but proud as they had ever been. A few were openly reading at the table while others were speaking animatedly. He had always known the eagles to have a perchance for pushing boundaries, seeking and never being satisfied. They had more in common with Slytherins than the other houses.

The house of the serpent had always been painted with a darker brush. His eyes lingered on his old house table longer than the others, taking in the bright faces of the First Years, innocent, and then the more sheltered, reserved faces of the Seventh Years.

At the last table, he found himself searching for a face long gone. His son had once sat amongst the badgers, true and loyal. To his ideals if nothing else.

After the desserts had appeared and disappeared down hungry gullets, the headmistress stood once more. “Before we depart for bed to rest tired heads, it falls to me to introduce you to our newest staff member here at Hogwarts.”

Belle elbowed him, indicating he was to stand. He clicked his tongue at her in annoyance but did as he was bid and rose. She had damnable pointy elbows under that blue robe. The candlelight caught on his scales and he cast a wordless charm that intensified the glow so it cast out across the entirety of the hall. Upturned faces sparkled golden and a few could not help but murmur in astonishment despite their apprehension.

“Professor Gold has graciously agreed to take over divination classes for the year,” Reul announced over the awed murmurs. “We are happy to have his....unique talents.” With that, she dismissed them to bed.

As he sat back down, the Librarian was trying her best to hide a grin. “You just had to upstage her,” she whispered as the students began to file out behind their prefects. “You should have seen her face when you cast that illumination charm. She could have bitten through glass.”

Soon, he thought, casting his gaze over to where the Headmistress was talking with the History of Magic Professor, a shy, retiring man with flaming red hair and glasses that slipped off his nose. It was widely known to the staff that the professor was a powerful animagus, able to transform into a cricket. But the students did not know this and were often baffled when their schemes were caught in their infancy by the bumbling but affable professor.

“When do your classes start?” The Librarian asked as they both made their way back through the staff door.

“Noon tomorrow,” he replied with a grimace. “Seventh Years.” He was not looking forward to it for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which was that he would have to unteach them whatever they had learned. Seventh Years chose their schedules, which meant he had all four houses in one lesson, seven in total, which was the only auspicious thing. Seven was a lucky number.

“Will you take meals in the Great Hall?” The Librarian asked him as they started in unison up the staircase.

They had fallen into a pattern of sorts over the past month. She brought him lunch in the Divination Tower and he joined her in the library for dinner. They spoke sometimes, but their time was mostly spent reading. He had much to learn of the world that had gone on without him while he had been in the wilderness, and the Librarian ...well the Librarian’s thirst for knowledge never seemed to lessen.

He shook his head.

“Me either,” she said as the staircase began to shift under their feet. “Oh blast,” she hissed as it swung them the wrong way towards the Southern Tower. Her quarters were in the Lookout Tower by the Ravenclaw dormitories, close to the Ravenclaw Head of House quarters. “I was hoping to catch Maleficent and discuss the new students.”

The Ravenclaw Head of House was prickly, proud and private. She had attended the feast just long enough to see the new students sorted before she had departed.

This meant that the Librarian ended up handling most of the Head of House duties despite her position. The Headmistress has been a Ravenclaw as well, but she was not supposed to be partial. The only other Ravenclaw on staff was the Healer Whale, who was as uninterested in his old house as was everything else that did not directly benefit him.

It was growing late but he did not need sleep. So, he did not comment on the hour. The Librarian fell in step beside him, chatting on about the latest book she had found and asked him his thoughts on the accuracy of Hogwarts, a History chapter on the wards that protected the castle. She knew the entire book by heart as she did many of her books.

A Polaroid memory, the muggles called it, according to the Muggle Studies Professor Ariel. He wasn’t quite sure that meant but the mermaid who taught her classes on the bank of the Black Lake had been fairly adamant it was correct.

They began an unofficial patrol of sorts in the Southern Tower. It was far from the dormitories, so there was little chance they would stumble upon any student. But he was not quite ready to retire to his circular chambers, and they soon engaged in a lively debate on the existence of undocumented secret passageways.

They were wandering when noises came from up ahead. The Librarian moved to free her wand, but Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “Professor Mills,” he greeted.

The redheaded Herbology Professor lowered her wand with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Why, Professor Gold,” she hummed in delight. “What brings you to my tower?”

“Patrolling,” the Librarian answered.

Zelena acted as if the Librarian wasn’t even there. “I had been meaning to ask you to stop by for a chat, Professor Gold. Perhaps now is a good time as any?”

She drew the moniker out like an invitation. He had relieved to learn the Librarian had not given his true name to the headmistress and he had declined to do so as well. Names had power and he was not going to arm Ghorm with anything she could use against him in the upcoming battle.

“No thank you,” the Librarian answered for him.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Zelena snapped. “Shouldn’t you be back in your precious library, Belle?”

“Madame French to you,” Belle said testily. She turned to him. “Shall we?”

He nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. “Perhaps another time,” he said as he passed the fuming Herbology Professor.

“I’ll be waiting,” she promised as she watched them go.

They turned a corner and climbed a flight of stairs until they came out near the top of the tower. “Ugh,” the Librarian said with a shudder. “I wish I knew what Regina has over Ghorm to get that incompetent hack hired.”

He was learning the Librarian was fierce when provoked. “I would be wary of that one,” he said casually as they passed by an open window.

“No kidding,” she muttered darkly. “I don’t trust either Mills sister as far as I could hex them.”

“I meant the headmistress.”

Her face flickered in unease. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said after a moment’s thought. “But Reul Ghorm has been headmistress since I attended Hogwarts. I have no reason not to trust her with my life.”

“While I am no more trustworthy than a minion of the Darkness,” he finished for her.

She frowned. “No. I trust you-”

“You’re a fool then.”

“Will you let me finish? I meant I trust you to be self-serving as long as I have this.” She touched the dagger at her throat, hidden beneath her robes.

In the distance, the clock tower chimed the witching hour. Around the castle, the students settled into slumber. The Librarian sighed. “One more turn and head back to the Entrance Hall?” she suggested.

He nodded, falling into step beside her once more.

“Madame French?” he said, testing out the name she had given him by accident.

“Hmm?” she said, lifting her wand to peer into a dark corridor as they passed.

“Send an owl to the Herman girl’s family. They are not safe.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she said. And she meant it.  
October

“Madam French.”

Belle looked up from the tome in her lap, in what she hoped was an innocent manner.

“Professor Gold,” she greeted. She reached up and tugged the ribbon from her hair, laying it down as a placeholder before she carefully closed the book. “What can I do for you?”

He waved his left hand lazily and the book rose on its own accord to float over to him. He caught it in his extended hand and it vanished entirely, leaving only her ribbon draped across his hand.

The corner of Belle’s mouth twitched, half amused and half exasperated. “I wasn’t done with that yet.”

It had taken her nearly four weeks to find A Deadly Dark and Deeply Dangerous Diatribe on the Dark Arts. It had been cited in a few other tomes recording the history of the Dark Arts, but she could find no trace of it in the library. Someone had been careful to place enough wards and enchantments under it to keep it hidden until the end of days.

He favored her with a disapproving frown. “Last I checked, Madam French, that book had been under several different spells and enchantments that made it invisible, unnoticeable and immovable.”

He had taken to calling her Madam French just after the Start-of-Term Feast as the students did. Her hand rose absently to where the dagger dangled at her chest, hidden safely beneath her robes.

“Yes, and I don’t appreciate you spelling my books,” she said archly, understanding it now. “I am not a child who doesn’t understand the power of words, Professor Gold.” Belle extended her arm. “If you would be so kind as to return it to me? I was in the middle of a fascinating analysis of the initial origins of the Dark Arts in the days of-”

“The last person to read that tome turned into a tree,” he warned.

“Lucky for me, Hogwarts is home to some of the most intelligent and powerful witches and wizards of our age. If a tree appears in the midst of the library, I entrust someone will wrinkle out how to free me from such a prison. May take a few hundred years,” she acknowledged, “but eventually, they’ll puzzle it out.”

“This is not a joke.” He grumbled under his breath but he lifted two fingers and snapped them. The book materialized back on her desk.

Belle smiled, victorious. “I’ll do my best to avoid any hexes,” she assured him.

“If you suspect anything, stop reading at once and bring it to me. I’ll see that any lingering nastiness is removed.”

“That’s very kind of you, Professor.”

“Easier to remove a hex than undo one,” he pointed out, ever the curmudgeon.

Belle stood. It was ten minutes to eight. “I was going to the kitchen for a cup of tea,” she explained gesturing at the untouched dinner plate, forgotten on her desk. “Maybe some biscuits,” she added.

He nodded. “Then, I will leave you to it,” he said with a half bow.

Belle rolled her eyes. “I was asking you to come with me,” she said as she came around the desk to head out into the library. He trailed after her, that pride of his could be a damn nuisance sometimes. The library was already vacant, as the students were already at the Halloween feast.

“Colloportus,” she said with a sharp twist of her wand. The library lock squelched shut behind them and they headed off to the kitchens together. “How goes it with your Slytherins?’

He grumbled and Belle had to hide her smile. The Slytherins had taken the odd reptilian Divination teacher as their mascot of sorts, much to the exasperation of their Head of House, Professor Mills.

Belle had enlisted Professor Nolan into letting her snoop through the Book of Admittance to find the list of names who had attended Hogwarts four and a half centuries ago.

Rumpelstiltskin was an odd name but no odder than some of the other names written back then. She could barely pronounce half of them. She had finally found his name in the records of 1679. She had slipped that bit of information to a curious Prefect who had found the name in one of the registers: Rumplestiltskin, Head Boy of Slytherin House 1686.

The rest of Hogwarts remained terrified of the “Dark One”, but the Slytherins had accepted him enthusiastically. Many of the older students had even petitioned to add Divination to their classes, though Reul Ghorm had denied them.

This newfound interest in divination annoyed the Astronomy Professor to no ends and an odd rivalry had been born between the two of them. Rumplestiltskin seemed to enjoy it immensely, going out of his way to irk and provoke Professor De Vil at every opportunity.

As they exited the library corridor, it became clear that Robin had gone above and beyond this year. Pumpkins the size of carriages lined the Entrance Hall in honor of Halloween. Bats flew freely, careening in circles and skittering in graceful loops overhead. Laughter as warm as sunlight emanated from the Great Hall.

Belle cast a look inside to find cauldrons teeming with sweets by every table, while skeletons danced up and down the aisles. The ghosts were even in attendance, swirling like pearly mist high above the student’s heads.

When they entered the kitchen, the house-elves were busy but as always they insisted upon brewing her a pot of tea. Belle firmly refused them, taking a box of biscuits and a few tea things. “You’re busy,” she kept repeating to their horror. “I can brew hot water perfectly fine, Pooky.”

They exited through the fruit bowl painting that hid the kitchen's entrance just as the castle caretaker Leroy was storming towards the Great Hall. He snorted as he took them in. “Figures you two would be together,” he huffed. “Predictable but convenient. I could use a hand in the dungeons.”

Before Belle could ask why Rumplestlktsin was following after the dwarf that the students affectionately called Grumpy. Despite his trademark frown and quick temper, Leroy had a kind heart and was fiercely protective of Hogwarts and its inhabitants.

“It must have gotten in through one of the dungeon doors,” Leroy was telling Rumplestiltskin as Belle hurried behind them. “Didn’t know there were trolls still in these parts.”

Belle stopped dead. “A troll?” she demanded. “In the dungeons?”

“Thought you should know,” Leroy said with a shrug. He jerked his finger towards Rumplestiltskin. “This one can handle it. It’s alone and barely old enough to count as a full-fledged troll.”

“But-” The Headmistress should know, but if Belle turned back to the Great Hall to get Reul- who knew what could happen in the interim. She wasn’t about to risk it.

“Relax,” Rumplestlktsin said over his shoulder. “This is not the day I die.”

“I’m not worried about you,” she huffed. “I’m worried about the castle. How did it get past the wards?”

He did not have an answer for this. Or if he did, he did not share it with her. They headed down the dungeon staircase opposite the great marble staircase, down, down, down past the Slytherin Common Room.

Belle stopped there. “What has someone skipped the feast?” she asked, eyeing the stone wall that hid the Slytherin common room.

Leroy stopped and scratched his beard. “I’ll stand guard,” he decided, jutting his chin out to indicate up ahead. “It was up that way.”

Judging by the sounds emanating from up ahead, it had not gone far. Belle drew out her wand. Rumplestiltskin's shoulders were rigid as they turned the corner towards the dungeon bathrooms.

“Homenum revelio,” Belle whispered. The spell showed no one else down the corridor but there was no doubt that up ahead there was one very large, very hairy, and very smelly troll.

“Ugh,” she said with a shudder as the smell hit them all at once.

Rumplestiltskin curled his lips in disgust but he waved a hand and the smell of fresh-cut grass replaced the stench. “We can hear it,” he said instead of an explanation. “Don't need to smell it too.”

They entered the girl’s bathroom where the worst of the noise was coming from. The troll was going down the line of stalls, smashing them to smithereens, enjoying the way the toilets sprouted water into the air. The entire floor was a pond of water, reflecting their faces up at them.

Rumplestiltskin stepped forward, a grin on his pointed face but Belle simply lifted her wand. “Wingardium Leviosa,” she said, enunciating clearly as her wind swished and flicked. The troll’s great club flew out of his grip, floated above his head for a moment as he stared in dumbfounded amazement before it came crashing down on his head.

The troll was out cold by the time it hit the floor. Rumplestiltskin pouted. “Spoilsport.”

“Get it out of here,” Belle directed, satisfied the creature was not going to awaken any time soon. She cast a petrification totalus spell upon it for good measure before she went off in search of the Headmistress.

“Madam French?” Belle stopped, turning to find Rumplestiltskin grinning at her, amidst the ruins of the girl’s loo. “Happy Halloween,” he said with his own trademark jack o 'lantern smile.

Belle hesitated for a moment. “Happy Halloween.” With that, she turned and left, feeling rather flushed despite the chill of the dungeon.

It was only as Headmistress Ghorm was tearing into her for not alerting her that Belle realized Rumplestiltskin had never given her hair ribbon back from the library.   
November

The first Quidditch match of the year brought the entire castle out despite the frigid weather. The day had dawned stormy but the rains had held off to the relief of the Slytherins and Ravenclaw teams.

Belle had dragged Rumplestiltskin out to the match despite his protests that she was needed in the library. “The entire castle is at the match,” she pointed out. “Doctor Mirabilis can watch the library.”

The Ravenclaw Ghost, a fettered and chained medieval scholar, spent most of his time in the library anyway. So, he had been happy to help, urging her to get out of the castle and get some fresh air. She suspected he was looking forward to running the library himself which was fine as the students had a healthy respect for the ghosts. Besides, if something were to happen, Master Whale was just down the hall in the infirmary.

“I didn’t take you for a Quidditch fan,” Rumplestiltskin huffed, his breath steaming in the cold air.

“It’s the first match of the year. Besides, our houses are playing.”

He muttered something under his breath but the effect was ruined as two Slytherins hurried past, late to the match. “Professor Gold!” they cried out, brandishing flags that had his face magicked on them. His face snarled and spat at them from the banner before the two ran off towards the pitch.

The pleased little grin on his face was proof enough of Rumplestiltskin’s fondness for his newfound popularity. Belle laughed and looped her arm through his to hurry him along. They climbed up to sit in the staff box without discussion.

Mary Margaret, five months pregnant and starting to show through her robes was already there. She looked pointedly away when they emerged in the stands.

“Over here!” Jefferson cried, waving them frantically forward to where he had saved seats. Belle moved to join him, looking around for the Mill sisters. She finally saw them in the Slytherin section. Regina looked like she had swallowed a lemon. All the students had donned Rumplestiltskin masks, so a sea of golden faces stared back at the rest of the stands.

“I got one too!” Jefferson said, fishing it out from under his seat. He plopped it over his head, putting his trademark hat on top of it. He grinned at them from beneath it.

“Idiot,” Ruby grumbled as she sat down beside Belle. She had her trademark Gryffindor cloak on against the chill. “I’m rooting for Ravenclaw,” she said.

“Appreciate the support,” Belle said with a grin as both teams took the field. Maleficent explained the rules, her voice amplified with the sonorous charm before the whistle started the game.

The Slytherins made quick work of the Ravenclaw’s. A bludgeon took out the keeper and allowed for the Slytherins to score within the first thirty seconds of the game. Belle winced as the Ravenclaw keeper, Gretel, pulled herself back up on her broom. Her younger brother, Hansel, the Slytherin Bludger, waved cheerfully at her as he zoomed back up the field.

The Slytherin Chasers worked in unison. While the Ravenclaws technique was textbook, they lacked the cutthroat approach with which the Slytherins played the game. Behind them, the announcer passionately recapped the last play but his words were lost in the howling winds that were picking up from the south.

Something like ice slid down Belle’s spine as the Slytherins scored once more. But it was not because of the match. She lifted her eyes to the west as did Rumplestiltskin.

The world went cold all at once as every joyful thought disappeared as if it had never been and never would be again. “Dementors!” Ruby managed through clenched teeth, her hand clutching at her bite.

Across the pitch, the Potions Mistress jumped to her feet. She cast out her hands just as figures dropped out of the stormy skies to descent upon the Slytherin Keeper at the end of the field.

The Slytherin Keeper felt them. She nosedived toward the earth, but the shadows pursued her.

All around the stands, teachers, and prefects were corralling students into the safety of the staircases. Maleficent cut down the pitch like an arrow, her wand issuing forth a stream of silver. The silver mist took the shape of a vengeful dragon which swallowed the dementor whole. The creature bellowed a cry of agonized defeat before it tumbled to the earth in a heap of rotted robes.

The Slytherin Keeper made it to her teammates as Zelena appeared in their midst. She hurried them to the closer tower. Which happened to be Gryffindor. Robin was there to pull them inside before he and Zelena took up a guard outside it. Their wands raised, glowing silver.

Regina stood on the Slytherin ramparts. A horse of silver galloped protectively around the tower door, kicking its feet and rearing its head whenever a dementor soared too close.

The Head Mistress was nowhere in sight, but Mary Margaret was casting her Patronus. It was winged and fast, darting in and out of the clouds to attack and harass before disappearing again. David stood beside her, his Patronus a great monarch butterfly that flittered directly into the sightless faces of the dementors, batting at them with its great wings.

In the chaos, it was hard to find the right memory but Belle focused. When she had it, the summer they had all spent in the south of France, she lowered her wand and exclaimed, “Expecto Patronum!”

Her voice was lost in the wind that had risen around them but her Patronus burst forth from the tip of her wand to bound down the pitch to the Ravenclaw goalpost where Hansel and Gretel were cornered. The translucent hippogriff jumped between the siblings and the dementor, snapping its beak, the wisps of magic standing on end around its neck as its wings spread out to protect the two students.

Rumplestlktsin was oddly still during the entire thing. His eyes were not on the battle below but turned upwards as he scanned the skies. It took Belle a moment to realize what he was doing.

The dementors would not attack without orders. Something was controlling them, and that something was nearby. But she could not help him, it was taking all her concentration to focus on her spell. Beside her, Ruby was fighting to cast her Patronus, but her wolf would not form. It kept disappearing from the edge of her wand with a whimper. And her fear was attracting the dementors.

Mary Margaret had clambered down to stand on Ruby’s far side. David stood behind them, but their patronuses were still guarding the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff towers. Belle counted over a dozen dementors and that number seemed to be growing by the minute.

Ruby let out a cry and collapsed backward, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. Her head hit the bench behind her. Mary Margaret cried out, bending to help her friend. In the distance, her Patronus winked out.

A clap of magic burst forth without warning from directly beside them. David staggered backward to land hard on his rear while Belle barely managed to keep her feet. A silver-white light illuminated the entirety of the pitch, washing over everyone and everything. It was warm and bright and for a moment, Belle was back on the beach in the south of France, having fallen asleep while reading a book...the sun bright on her face, the sand warm on her back…

And then she was back in the cold of Scotland as the light faded away and with it, the dementors. Only their robes remained, smoking slightly, fluttering shapelessly down, down to the earth below.

David went to help his wife to her feet, but she was already helping Ruby. Jefferson managed to get to his feet as well, sheathing his wand without quite meeting anyone’s eyes. Rumpletskin’s forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat but he had a fierce, proud snarl on his face as he lowered his arms to his sides.

He took a step, only to stagger. Belle wedged her shoulder underneath his arm, keeping him upright before anyone could see him falter. “I got you,” Belle murmured, holding him upright.

Mary Margaret was breaking apart chocolate, handing some to Ruby who was starting to come around. “Here,” the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor said, offering up the chocolate to Belle who took some with a murmur of thanks.

Satisfied Ruby was not concussed, the Gryffindor Head of House straightened and took a long, hard look at Rumplestiltskin before she nodded, decided. “I still don’t like you,” she told him pointedly. “But anyone who can do that…” She gestured out towards the demontorless pitch, unable to put the sensation of the light he had conjured into words.

“What my wife is trying to say,” David cut in, sheathing his wand. “Is thank you.” He smiled broadly. “How did you do that?”

“Practice,” was all Rumplestiltskin said.

Jefferson had lost his mask in the fray. His eyes scanned the field where students were slowly starting to emerge from the stands. “An open attack on Hogwarts,” he murmured.

“The second if you count the troll,” Belle reminded him.

“Third if you count the werewolves in the forest,” Ruby grunted as she sat upright, clutching her head.

The six professors surveyed the field in silence. Belle absently found herself leaning closer to Rumplestiltskin, whose usual golden skin was pallid and had a green tint to it. “Are you okay?” she murmured when the others started to head out to help herd the students back to the castle.

He nodded tightly. “It’s happening sooner than I expected,” he told her with a shake of his curls. “It will be here soon.”

The Darkness.

Belle bit at her lip. “Well, good thing we have you,’ she said with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. His golden eyes swung to her, piercing straight through her as if searching her very soul.

“We will not be so lucky next time,” he told her quietly.

She nodded, throat tight and dry. “Then, we’ll have to prepare for the worst.” She reached out to put her hand on his arm. “Together?”

He hesitated before he nodded. “Together.”

It did not escape Belle that he was still hiding something from her. They had become...allies of sorts. More than just colleagues..perhaps friends but there was still something unspoken between them, something that stretched between them, unnamed and unknown.

Belle did not know what exactly it was, but she found herself walking close to him as they came up at the rear of the student body heading back to the castle.


	3. Winter

December

With the students gone, the castle courtyards were empty and desolate. The castle itself glimmered in the rays of the setting sun. The light reflected off the ice which covered every inch of stone from the castle walls to the ramparts. Snow flurries had begun to drift down from the darkening clouds above and the wind delivered the promise of a great storm to welcome winter.

The longest night of the year was dawning and the shadows were growing near.

Up high in the Owlery Tower, there was no other sound besides the gentle stirring of wings and soft hoots as the inhabitants of the owlery began to grow restless.

Rumplestiltskin stood facing out over the Forbidden Forest, a cloak draped over his traditional leathers. He spurned the latest wizard fashions of shapeless robes with their ornate detailing for more the protective, flexibility leathers offered. His only nod to current fashion was the winter cloak of decadent silver ermine fur.

It was growing colder but he did not cast a warming spell. Old wizard tradition dictated that one was supposed to meet the solstice as it was. So, he stood in the Owlery, the tallest western point of the castle as the last light began to flicker from orange and red to dim purple and dark blues.

Footsteps started up the stairs, slow and steady, careful of the ice coating the spiral steps. Rumplestiltskin turned to glance over his shoulder, listening for a moment before turning back to the open-air before him. There were only a dozen professors left in Hogwarts and while this tower hosted Jefferson’s office, the Charms Professor was down in his quarters at the moment.

It may have been Leroy, whom the children affectionately dubbed Grumpy, coming to check on the birds but he knew the dwarf was down in the kitchens, drowning his sorrows.

The owl had come just this morning. The old Divination teacher had been hiding out in a cottage on Arranmore Island. She was discovered wandering the streets, tortured to insanity. The villagers had brought her to St. Mungos the doctors despaired of ever returning her to her senses.

The footsteps continued, drawing close until Madam French joined him in the owlery. She had donned a maroon cloak edged in white fur over soft pastel robes. “Happy Yule,” she murmured as she lowered the hood. She had found a matching pale ribbon which tied back her hair. The climb had flushed her cheeks to the same rosy pink as her robes and her lips were swollen and red as her cloak from the biting cold.

He wrenched his eyes away before he dwelled too long on the warm greeting in her eyes. She joined him at the western wall, gazing out as the last of the sunlight hummed and faded along the horizon edge.

“Happy Yuul,” he murmured when the last of the orange and reds had died away, leaving only a blanket of rich purples and midnight blues. He glanced back down at her robes, noticing they were far finer than any he had ever seen her wear. “Are you wearing pink?”

She ignored the question in favor of one of her own. “Have you ever attended a Yule ball?” she asked him, leaning her elbows on the stone ledge to gaze out across the spreading evening. She glanced back over her shoulder at him. “There were Triwizard Tournaments when you were at school, were there not?”

“One,” he said. “The Hogwarts Champion died in the first task. A boy. His twin sister pleaded to take his place...but in the end, the Drumstrang champion was crowned the victor. She was a descendant of Nerida Vulchanova.”

She hummed in interest like she did whenever he had said something fascinating to her. “The founder of Drumstrang? I didn’t think she had children before her murder.”

He arched a brow. “Murder?

The Ravenclaw shrugged and turned her gaze back out to the world below them. “She was a woman in power and then she died mysteriously and a man took her place. Not hard to puzzle out. Did you attend the ball?”

The question took him aback. “I...yes,’ he confessed lamely. “Why?”

She leaned her hand on her fist. “The Yule ball was always held on the Winter Solstice. I was just wondering what it was like.”

It was growing colder by the minute, not that he was going to be the one to suggest they go back into the warmth of the castle proper. Behind them, the owls were stretching their wings, soft hoots growing louder as they started to prepare for their evening flights.

“It was...beautiful,’ he managed, struggling with how to describe it. He had been a Fifth Year, green and unsure, too cowardly to even consider putting his name in the goblet though Milah had not had any such qualms.

He could still remember the way the fairy lights had twinkled in Milah’s eyes as they had danced. In honor of their house, she had donned silver dress robes and wound matching ribbons through her hair to match her Slytherin green eyes. He had not been able to take his eyes off her, so it was hard to remember the rest of the evening but he tried.

“There was a bard,” he said, coming over to stand by Belle’s side. “Who sang so beautifully that one may have thought sirens had graced his tongue. He accompanied himself on a harp that had been enchanted to only play true.”

His words wrapped them in a spell of its own, and soon the sky was spotted with stars as snow began to fall in earnest. Close at hand, the clock tower began to toll the hour.

He told her about the magical ice that had covered every surface but was not cold or slick. How the students had skated upon it, dancing like ethereal creatures as snow began to fall from the enchanted sky above though none fell outside in the gardens. His old life was misty in his memory but he remembered the magic of it all.

He had kissed Milah for the first time that night. Or to be fair, she had kissed him. They had both been from no account families, poor and destitute. They had dreamed of futures bright and beautiful.

When his voice faded away, the Librarian’s eyes drifted shut. “I always wanted to attend a ball at Hogwarts,” the Librarian confessed, a little breathlessly as pink suffused her cheeks once more. “To dance under the stars. And since I will most likely not live to see another solstice, I thought...why not tonight?” She stood suddenly. “Dance with me?”

He was caught off-balance. “D-dance?”

Her smile was infectious. She held up her right hand in invitation. “It involves two people. There’s usually music. Some swaying-”

“I know what dancing is,” he said but his voice did not sound confident.

“I’m not sure you do,” Belle teased, stepping closer. She took his hand in her own, raising it before her other hand moved his to her waist. In four hundred years, this was the closest he had been to someone. This close he could smell the subtle scent of roses.

Her hand was warm in his grip but he was careful not to scratch the soft skin with his claws. He racked his brain, trying to remember how this went but his brain had ceased working. Belle took mercy on him and took the first step.

They danced in the open air high above the rest of the world. The world shank away to the feeling of Belle in his arms. Somewhere music began to play. It was soft and sweet.

They pivoted but Belle took a step closer so she was flush against him. They stumbled to a stop. “Rumple…- I…” Her eyes were determined but soft as she laid first one hand on his chest and then the other against his cheek.

He gently disentangled her hands from his person before taking a purposeful step away from her. It was the hardest thing he had done in the past four hundred years.

“What are you…?” she looked lost, confused.

“Madam French,” he began, trying to find the right words to explain to her-

“Belle,” she said fiercely. “My name is Belle. Why don’t you ever-” She fell silent but she did not flee. She simply set her jaw as she faced him down, refusing to be embarrassed. “You’ve read me my death sentence. Am I not allowed to live before I die?”

The future was written. He knew what would be, would be ... and yet...it was not here. It was not now. The winter solstice could be a time of new beginnings if approached with hopes of renewal and rebirth. If greeted with hopelessness and fear...she would only look back on this as a mistake and he could not bear that.

“Belle.” Her name was a prayer on his lips but she winced as it dropped like a stone between them. She had given it of her own free will after months, and yet, he could already feel her pulling away from him.

“There are more suitable ...dancing partners,” he began, every word choking him.

She was his. But he could not lay claim to her. Not yet.

“Yes, I’ll just run down and knock on Jefferson’s door,” Belle laughed bitterly. “‘Sorry about your dead wife and estranged daughter, fancy a shag’? Or better yet, how about I go to Whale’s office? He likes them young but he may make an exception since there are no Seventh Years at hand.”

“I meant-”

“Oh, you meant Ruby?” Belle tapped a finger to her chin. “Yes, I could see that. If it wasn't just two days after the full moon and she can still barely stand up straight after her transformation. Or Ariel is always curious about new things, not sure how that would work, but I could give it a shot-”

“Belle-”

She continued over him, her voice growing louder and louder. “Or maybe the Nolans would be interested in spicing things up a bit-”

“Do what you will,” he snarled. “Mock me all you like. I’m not the one who is flinging myself at-”

He hadn’t meant them but jealousy had formed the words and his temper had flung them at her like hexes. She stopped, sucking in air, wounded, exposed.

“My apologies, Professor,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height of five feet. “I’ll leave you to your reveries. I hope they keep you warm this Yule eve.”

She pushed past him and started down the stone staircase, leaving him clenching his fists. He listened to her go, straining to hear the telltale sounds of tears, but when the door to the castle swung shut behind him, it was he who had the tears upon his cheeks.

He left them there to freeze and turned back to his watch. The longest night of the year was already here, which meant they did not have much time left.

  
January

“She’s still not talking to you, huh?” Whale clicked his tongue. “Shame. You two were such good...friends.” Whale let the word linger.

Rumplestiltskin did not rise to the bait. As they reached the infirmary, Rumplestiltskin declined Whale’s invitation to come in for a cup of tea. He pressed on through the castle, full of life once more now that the students had returned.

His feet took him back to the Entrance Hall. He lingered there, looking down the library corridor and wondering if he had the courage to extend the olive branch. To explain to her-

“Professor Gold.”

Ah, yes. He had been expecting her.

“Professor Mills,” he said with a solemn bow of his head. Overhead, the Clock Tower chimed the start of classes, but his Friday afternoons were mercifully free.

“I was wondering if you would join me in my office for a cup of tea?”

He let a smile drag out over his face, showing each and every one of his colored, crooked teeth. Professor Mills did not so much as blink. She simply waited with a cocked eyebrow and the corner of her lip twitching in what could almost be a smirk.

“Delighted,” he answered, waving an arm grandly to gesture her to lead the way.

The Potions Mistress’s office was attached to the Potions classroom, which was little changed from his days at Hogwarts. Regina’s office, on the other hand, had been painted crisp white with delicate black tracings that looked like swaying trees at first but on closer inspection were individual snakes that wiggled and writhed.

A fire crackled and popped in greeting as they entered, a tea cart waiting for them. “Milk or sugar?” Regina asked as she moved to pour his cup. “I know how much you like sweet things.”

He shook his head. “Just tea is fine, thank you.”

He accepted the cup with a nod of his head before settling into the closest armchair. Regina settled in the chair behind her desk, slightly elevated to allow her to look down upon whoever sat across from her.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you about-”

“My intentions,” he finished for her.

Her eyes glittered in annoyance. “Where does the Darkness plan to strike next? Hogwarts? London?”

He shook his head, raising a finger to tap his temple. “It doesn’t work like that,” he purred.

“No,” Regina agreed. She opened a drawer, pulling out a small black-bound book which she put on the table between them. “According to this, your powers are not your own.”

Baelfire’s book stared back up at him. He had not seen it since Belle had brought it out in the woods with her. Magic ran down his spine, the sensation of goose pimples rose along his scaled arms. It whispered to him, words of unfathomable power, promises ...and rebukes.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, lifting his eyes away from it with considerable effort.

Regina was smiling now. “I may have borrowed it from the library without checking it out.”

“You stole it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He strove to make it nonchalant as he could. He wagged a finger. “Naughty, naughty.”

“What’s she going to do?” Regina laughed. “Take five points from Slytherin?”

She underestimated Belle. That was her first mistake.

“You’ve read it all then?”

She nodded. “I have some questions.”

He regarded her cautiously. “And what makes you think I’ll answer them truthfully?”

Her eyes flickered down to the untouched cup of tea in front of him and he began to laugh. “Veritaserum? You thought to steal the truth?” He continued to laugh as he picked up the cup and drained it one long swallow. When he was done, he bared his fangs at her. “I will give it to you of my own free will.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed. “How do I know you’re not immune to its effects?”

He shrugged. “I’m not. Unless I am. And lying about it.”

The Slytherin Head of House looked as if she had bitten into a lemon when she had expected something sweet. “How is it that you came to have these powers?”

He had not read the book, so he could not say what Baelfire had written there. “They were given to me. Passed down when I sought protection for myself and my son from the Darkness.”

It was not a rare deal. The Darkness approached those most likely to be swayed, the cowards and the simpletons who did not know protection meant their lives regardless of if they continued to breathe or not.

“But you are not another mindless minion.”

“How kind of you to say,” he said with a crooked grin. “I would have been if it were not for my son’s interference.” He gestured towards the book. “He was horrified at my deal. At what I had become. He sought a way to stop the transformation, to sever the connection, but the Darkness was too strong.”

It had cut a swarth through the land like the plagues of old. No one had been safe.

“My son strove to find a way to free me.” He spread his hands out before him. “I had no interest in being neutered.”

The Darkness had corrupted his mind until his only thought was power, control. He had hungered for it. Nothing else mattered. He had been another disease-carrying rat. If Baelfire had not- If he hadn’t...He wrenched his mind away from that memory. It was boggling how raw it all was, even now four hundred years later.

Regina considered him for a long moment. “My mother felt the same,” she finally said. “She had great ambitions. She would have seen me in the Headmaster’s chair, if not the Minister of Magic’s office. Whatever it took. Including murdering my fiance in cold blood.”

He shrugged as if she had not just shared her greatest trauma. “Ruthless ambition is common in veelas.”

“I should have figured. Yes, my great-great-grandmother,” Regina replied. “Her father stumbled upon a Veela bathing in a stream south of Lourdes. The Veela declined his advances. He declined her declination. Nine months later, my mother’s great-grandmother was left on his doorstep. An act of unspeakable transgression tainting what should have been a great joy.” She gave a humorless laugh. “No men have been born to our family since. A curse or a blessing, depending on who you ask.”

It was a peace offering of sorts, this history. It was not necessary but it was illuminating. “My son could not bring himself to kill me. So, instead, he bound me to where he thought I would do the least harm. In the hopes, when the Darkness was defeated, I may find my way home again.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Find your way home?”

“The headmistress lowered the wards on the castle, allowing me to extend my cage from wooden wardens to stone walls. But where would I go? My home is long gone...there is no one who would remember my name.”

“And what name would that be?”

He grinned at her. “The one my mother gave me.”

Regina’s face tightened. “Do you know what became of your son?”

“He died, most like,” Rumplestlktsin said.

Regina thrust the book towards him. “Take this back to your little pet. If you care to read it first, it may prove rather interesting.”

His grin was brittle but he picked it up. Nothing happened beyond a tingle of magic that warmed the palm of his hand, as if someone was taking his hand in theirs. He stood, turning to leave before he stopped in the doorway. “Your mother,” he said, “What happened to her?”

Regina did not break eye-contact with him as she lifted her cup of tea to her lips and took a long drink. When she was done, she smiled. “I killed her with the same spell she killed Daniel with. And did not lose a night of sleep over it. And if I killed my mother for her alliance with the Darkness, imagine what I might do to you?”

He bowed and turned to leave. “Oh! One more thing,” he turned back to her. “I’d be wary of that sister of yours.”

With that, he left her in the dungeons and headed back up towards the light.

  
February

The knock on her door came at midnight.

Belle lifted her eyes from the book she had been reading. Her room was heavy with shadows from the fire in the hearth and the lone candle at her bedside. Belle frowned, wondering if she had been imagining things when the knock came again.

She rose up from her bed, unconsciously swapping her book for her wand. She was not naive enough to think no harm could come to those in Hogwarts. It may be the safest place left in England but that was not saying much. Not anymore.

London had fallen. Namely, the Ministry. Where the great building had once stood was a pile of rubble. Perhaps the infrastructure stood remained deep underground but no one dared to go see.

An acting government had risen in Glasgow but another had claimed power in Dublin. No one knew what to believe. Students roamed the hall in a daze, rumors and gossip swirling thick as smoke. Some had heard from their families ...others had sent owls which had not returned.

The knock repeated, firmer this time. Belle stopped in the center of her room, close to the fire, and lifted her wand in a sharp arc. The door swung open revealing a golden figure standing in the darkness without wand or candle to light his way.

“Rumple,” Belle sighed as some but not all of the tension drained out of her. “What’s wrong?”

He wordlessly handed back over a small black book. It was the same book she had followed to find him, and the one she thought was safe in the Hogwarts vault deep in the heart of Gringotts bank. “Regina,” Belle grumbled as she crossed the room to take it from him. “Should have known.”

Rumplestiltskin followed her inside. She flipped through the book but found there was nothing out of place. “You read it?” she guessed.

He nodded. “She gave it to me a few weeks ago...but…”

They had not been on speaking terms. Belle had let her pride get the better of her, forgetting what was truly at stake until Rumplestiltskin had come to her, the day the Ministry fell, shaking and pale.

Reul had deemed the school was to continue as usual but many of the professors had changed their curriculums. Mary Margaret now taught the Third Years about Unforgivables. David taught the Fifth Years Conjuration instead of Switching Spells, so they may never be caught off guard. Regina began to teach her classes about antidotes and how to recognize the presence of potions while Ruby and Selena brought their classes into the safety of the castle. The rest of the merfolk went deep, deep to the bottom of the lake with the Giant Squid, but Ariel had opted to the castle to teach lessons out of a large tank, though the usually bubbly and careful mermaid was sad and forlorn out of the lake.

“Thanks for bringing it back to me,” Belle said, clutching it tight to her chest. “I don’t think it’s got any secrets left but still...doesn’t hurt to keep it out of the wrong hands.”

He nodded absently, barely listening. “Rumple?” she said. “What is it?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to read it...not until...what happened.” His golden eyes swung back to her. “He… he…”

In that instance, Belle forgot how he had turned her down. How furious and embarrassed she had been at her stupidity and his stubbornness. She crossed the room and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Rumple…”

She had read the book before she had gone out into the woods after him. She had known the writer had been his son. But it was not until the second reading, or maybe even the third, that she began to recognize the language the writer used was the same way she thought about Rumplestiltskin.

The writer had loved him and had despaired of losing him to the Darkness. They had left the book where one day someone may find it, understand it, and break the spell.

“What was his name?” Belle asked him gently, the book pressed between them.

He inhaled deeply, but he did not step back from her. “Baelfire,” he said softly, speaking the word aloud for the first time since he had screamed it at him, cursing him as he walked away. “His name was Baelfire.”

Belle could not help the small laugh. “You and your names,” she said with a shake of her head.

“His mother chose it,” he said softly. “But it fit him. He was a light.” Belle moved to step back to give him room to grieve but he caught her hand. “Like you,” he said softly as his thumb began to draw circles against the back of her hand. His eyes drifted down, till they lingered on her lips.

Belle could not breathe, as a swirl of emotions flew through her. “I thought…”

Was she misreading this? Or was he under some kind of spell? She leaned into sniff his breath but there was no trace of amortentia.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

“Checking for amortentia,” she said.

He began to laugh. Belle bristled self-consciously for a moment before she too joined in. There had been little to laugh about over the last few days and it felt freeing to indulge in joy, even for just a moment.

They moved over to sit by the fire. “I just finished it. I...I came to ask you...I figured you might know. What happened to him?”

Belle smiled a little sadly, having been dreading this question. “I’m not sure,” she told him. “He left Hogwarts in his Fourth Year from what I can tell by the records. He might have changed his name...but it seems more likely he left England in search of a way to free you.”

Rumplestlktsin stared into the fire but he did not see it. “Tell me about him,” she urged him, scooting closer until their knees brushed.

When his golden gaze turned back to her, it was soft and sad. “He was just and fair. His mother was horror-struck when he was sorted into Hufflepuff….she left us shortly after that. Baelfire blamed himself but it wasn’t his fault. I was no man. Just a mouse and the world was growing darker by the day. I only ever wanted to protect him and instead ...”

He gestured at himself helplessly. “Here I sit, four hundred years later with the same threat on the horizon. As powerless as I was then to protect the one person I love.”

The word echoed in her ears as she sat there, uncomprehending.

“Do you remember when we met?” he said as if he had not just said what he had said.

“Vaguely?” Belle joked feebly.

“I told you I had seen you.”

“You saw my death,” Belle said.

He nodded stiffly. “I did. I also saw this.” He gestured between the two of them. “And what it will mean.’

“I don’t understand-” Belle began.

He reached over and pulled the book out of her nerveless fingers. Every part of her body was humming but she forced herself to keep still, understanding that he was trying to tell her something, something important.

He flipped open the book to the opening scrawl. “A winged maiden of sound mind and body,” he read aloud. “I told him that much. I had already seen you in my dreams. Seen...us.”

Belle thought she understood his meaning all too well. And yet, she had been wrong before.

“The Darkness is antithesis to light,” he continued in a rush of words. “It twists us to to give in to our most base impulses, plays on our deepest fears but it cannot exist if one does not give it quarter.”

His fingers entwined with her own, raising them to his lips for a searing kiss. Heat sparked through her. She leaned closer to him as if he had cast Accio. The charm around her neck, the one still cold despite her entire body being flush with warmth, slipped out of her gown to dangle between them.

His eyes lingered on it. “You’ve had me close to your heart this whole time,” he chuckled with a shake of his silver brown curls. “I had hoped to spare you from all this. To give you that grace, however much I wanted to come to you, to throw myself at your knees and beg-”

Belle was done listening. She closed the distance and pressed her lips against his as she had wanted to do for weeks, maybe months. His arms wrapped around her as he welcomed the kiss, murmuring her name when they broke apart for air.

“You git,” she managed as she crawled into his lap so she could kiss him better. “We’re in this together, remember?”

He pulled the ribbon from her hair so it fell around the two of them, blocking the rest of the world out. “Remind me,” he whispered against her throat as his hands gripped her thighs which straddled his own.

She murmured something indecipherable as magic stripped them both until the only thing between them was the dagger, the link between his soul and the Darkness which tainted it. But around Belle’s neck, dangling between her two perfect breasts, he only saw his name, binding him to her as had been foretold.

She burned bright in the firelight, incandescent and fierce as she writhed under his ministrations. He had every intention of worshipping her, drawing out every noise he could until she only knew or remembered pleasure but she, as always, had plans of her own.

She raised herself, taking him in her hand and stroking him, eyes locked with his own. There would be time for soft and slow, long and lingering later. When she looked at him like that, he could not wait. Brushing her hand away, he took himself in hand and buried himself inside her with a single thrust upwards.

Home, he thought. And then he thought no more.


	4. Spring

March

It was odd to be in love at the end of the world.

Belle struggled to hide her smile as she headed down the corridor towards the Headmistress Office. A few students hurried past, late for class, but they did not spare her a second look.

Gods, she was like a teenager again, she thought as a tendril of warmth blossomed in her belly at the mere memory of how Rumple had awoken her this morning. She was a grown witch. She didn’t need to blush crimson every time she so much as thought about him.

She stopped in front of the gargoyle sentry. “Blue Fairy,” she said clearly and the creature jumped aside. As she continued up the spiral staircase, she heard it slide back into position. The password was a safety precaution to prevent students and staff alike from harassing the headmistress, but one that had always given her pause. A true leader should be available or at least attempt to be.

Reul had been headmistress since Belle had been at Hogwarts, a mysterious, aloof witch that had only been seen on chocolate frog cards or at the more significant feasts. When Belle had first come to teach here, Reul had welcomed her warmly and promised her door would always be open but Belle had rarely availed herself of the opportunity. Until she had shown up in the headmistress’ office on the Summer Solstice with the master plan to bring a dark wizard into Hogwarts.

Today, the headmistress office was bright and airy on the early spring morning. Reul had thrown open the windows to the crisp sunny sky. The past headmasters and headmistresses were slumbering in the streaming sunlight, oblivious to Belle’s arrival.

“Belle.” Reul stood from the massive and ancient desk to come and meet her. “Thank you for coming.”

Belle nodded, fighting to keep the polite smile on her face. One of the house-elves had been waiting for her at the library door, wringing his long, green fingers as he stuttered out the headmistress wanted her at once.

“You wanted to see me?”

Reul nodded gravely and took both of Belle’s hands in her own, bringing them up so they were standing nose to nose. The headmistress gazed deep into her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Confused, Belle looked down at herself before back up at the headmistress in confusion. “I’m well,” she said. “I don’t-“

Reul was still staring deep into her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. Too late, Belle realized what was happening. She took a hasty step back, averting her eyes but it was too late.

“So, he has corrupted you.” Reul gave a deep sigh. “Oh, Belle. I did warn you.”

“It’s not like that,” Belle tried to explain. “He’s different. He’s…my friend.”

Reul’s smile was pitying. “He is a dark wizard, Belle. We brought him to serve a purpose as long as he did no harm to those who dwelled here.”

Belle shook her head. “He hasn’t-“

“Oh, but he has.” Reul moved to a nearby cupboard. She unlocked it a wordless spell and the door sprang open to reveal a pensive. She ignored it, reaching deeper until she pulled out a book.

Belle did not recognize it. “Secrets of the Darkest Arts? I’ve never-”

“It is not a tome that should be left where anyone might find it,” Reul said as she carried it carefully back to the desk. “Tell me, Belle. What do you know about Horcruxes?”

“Little but that is enough,” Belle confessed.

“It is a terrible offense to split the soul,” Reul said with a shake of her head. “Only the darkest of wizards even attempt it.”

“Headmistress,” Belle started. “If this is about Rumpelstiltskin-“

“Do you know how a wizard can accomplish this feat?”

Belle shook her head. “No, but-“

“To create a Horcrux, one must commit the most wicked of dark acts, murder. When a witch or wizard turn their magic on another, it fragments the soul. A crack appears that never heals.”

Her fingertips skated over her breast as if sensing cracks in herself.

“A Horcrux takes advantage of that terrible truth. A spell, and do not ask for I do not know it, rips the fragment of the soul free and embeds it in a nearby object. Much like that dagger you wear around your neck.”

Belle’s legs went out from underneath her. She collapsed into the nearest chair, her fingers coming up to clutch the dagger as if to rip it free. She had known it had bound him here but she hadn’t known-

The bottom of Reul’s robes came into sight. Her hand descended on Belle’s shoulder. “May I?”

Belle did not know what happened. One minute she sitting in the chair, and the next she was on her feet, her wand pointed at Reul’s throat. She dropped it as if it was a brand.  
“I didn’t- That wasn’t me- I….”

Reul gave a great sigh. “Poor child.”

Belle lifted her fingers to the dagger. She had grown used to its unusual chill but it burned hot now. Her stomach roiled but she could not bring herself to pull it free. “What’s happening to me?” Belle managed as tears appeared in her eyes.

“Horcruxes are a great evil. They taint everything they touch. His vile evil has been seeping into your very soul, twisting you to his will-“

That wasn’t true. It wasn’t. He was good and kind. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

“No!” Belle exclaimed, desperate to get away from the voices in her head. Magic burst from her fingertips, searing the floor in a perfect circle around her as she fell to her knees.

Reul took a hasty step back, her wand appearing in her hand. “I know you don’t want to believe it but…” Reul trailed off. “I’m sorry, Belle. If I had known, I would have done something sooner.”

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

But he had warned her, hadn’t he? That night out in the woods, and then again in the owlery tower…even when he had come to her room. And she had assured him that it was what she wanted. She had dug her own grave.

And yet…just this morning, he had kissed her awake….so tenderly and so gently she had thought she had still been dreaming. Her entire chest felt hollowed out, empty and aching as she remembered all the times she had gazed into those golden eyes. She knew him. Better than anyone else in the world and he knew her.

How could she have been this wrong?

Or had she?

She lifted her tear-filled eyes to find Reul staring, not at her, but at the spot where the dagger laid hidden under her robes. Her stomach twisted again. “Headmistress?” Belle said as an ugly suspicion started to take root in her mind.  
Reul’s smile was brittle. “I know how hard this is,” she said. “But you must trust me, Belle.” She held out her hand. “Give the Horcrux to me.”

No, something whispered in the back of her mind. Destroy me.

Belle inhaled sharply as the dagger burned hotter. She pulled at the chain, breaking it in her haste. She was left kneeling on the floor, the dagger swaying at the end of the chain clutched in her fist.

“That’s a girl,” Reul murmured as if talking to a spooked thestral. “Now. Give it to me.”

Slowly, Belle brought her arm back to her until the dagger was clutched to her chest. She wordlessly shook her head.

Reul sighed. “I had hoped you could still be reasoned with. I’m afraid we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Her wand was pointed at Belle now. “I’m sorry, my child. But it has to be done. Avada-“

“No!” Belle threw her hand out, the same hand still holding the dagger, and a wave of magic burst forth, slamming into Reul. The headmistress flew backward until she crashed into the desk.

Belle struggled to rise but she could not move her feet. Her mind was in chaos. She did not know where she ended and the dagger began.

Reul jabbed her wand at her. “Crucio!”

The pain hit her all at once. Every nerve started to scream and writhe as it tried to escape the agony wracking through her but it was no use. Belle collapsed to the ground, twitching helplessly as she whimpered against the cool floor.

“Enough!” Reul snarled as she painstakingly struggled to her feet. “You foolish girl. That creature is no more fit to be called a wizard than you are fit to be called a witch.”

“S-stop,” Belle managed through her clenched jaws.

Another jolt of pain rolled through her as Reul kicked her, flipping her over onto her back. The headmistress’s eyes burned bright as stars as she gazed down at her. The usually stoic and kind face was twisted beyond all recognition. She raised her wand, the words already forming on her lips when the staircase started to move.

Reul swung her head and Belle pulled all her remaining strength to swipe her arm out under Reul’s feet. The witch flailed, thrown off balance but she did not fall.

“Headmistress! What’s- Belle?!”

Belle turned her head to stare up at the astonished faces of David Nolan. “What-“

“Bind her!” Reul commanded. David faltered for just a heartbeat, but the shadow behind him at no such qualms. Ropes snaked out of Zelena’s wand tip, tightening and squeezing her arms and legs to her body. Belle would have cried out but a rope was between her teeth.

Zelena kept her wand trained on her as she came closer.

“She attacked me,” Reul said in a shaking, uncertain voice. “David, check her hand.”

Belle tried to speak through the gag but her words were gargled. She resorted to pleading with him with tears in her eyes, knowing there was no way he could understand and yet hoping he might.

I’m not the threat, she implored him. Help me.

“Belle wouldn’t-“

“She has been poisoned by a Horcrux,” Reul snapped, losing her façade for just a moment. “The dagger, there.”

Zelena bent to take it but Reul exclaimed, “No! Don’t touch it.”

David straightened, pointing his wand at her hand. “Wingardium Leviosa”

Belle was too weak to hold onto the broken chain. It lifted along with the dagger before it ran out and crumpled to the ground with a clink of silver. The Horcrux hung over her, turning slowly.

Reul waved her wand and a nearby bell jar rose. It floated over to the dagger, the lid slowly lowering over it and the bottom sliding neatly underneath it. As it snapped close, everyone released their breath.

“You best fetch Regina,” Reul instructed Zelena. “I’ll need vertiaserum.” Zelena looked as if she might argue but she disappeared out of sight. “With the Ministry fallen, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands. David, get whomever you need and head to the Divination Tower. We cannot have a dark wizard roaming the castle with impunity.”

Reul turned, her prize in hand, but David did not move. He just stood there, continuing to stare down at Belle. She could see him internally debating.

“Rumpelstiltskin did this?”

Reul’s voice came from the desk. “He’s been twisting her to his will for months. One of the house-elves alerted me that their relationship had undergone an interesting development. I knew at once. Who could love such a beastly creature?”

He’s not, Belle thought. He’s not what you think he is. He’s stronger than that. He’s stronger than you.

“If she’s under the Imperious curse, she needs help. Let me take her down to Master Whale.”

“He cannot be trusted either,” Reul said firmly. “Nor can Professor Jefferson. Not until he is sure they are not under the Darkness’ influence.”

David considered this before he gave a short nod. He was going to be a father any day, Belle knew. Of course, he would choose to be cautious. Reul Ghorm was considered the wisest witch of her age. Rumpelstiltskin was a murderer.

She let her eyes close. Everything hurt from the crucio curse but nothing more than the aching sensation in her chest. “Her rooms are in the Ravenclaw Tower,” he pointed out. “If we contain her to her rooms-“

“Too close to the students,” Reul said. “The underground chambers down the third-floor corridor should do nicely.”

“But-“

“Until she has returned to her senses, of course.”

And when would that be? Belle wondered as David took her down the staircase. The ceiling spun and swam until she was certain she would be sick. Belle closed her eyes against the world, against the truth and hoped she wasn’t losing her mind.

April

Do no harm to those who call Hogwarts home.

It had been the only thing Belle had asked of him. So, when the gaggle of professors had come to the Divination Tower, he did not eviscerate them where they stood. He wished he could have said he saw them coming, but he had been in the middle of teaching.

If Jefferson had not come banging on the trapdoor, top hat missing, gasping about a posse, they may have even taken him.

He had managed to cut his way through them, careful not to use spells that could injure or maim. Then, it was as simple as a summoning spell to bring a broom to his window. He had been safe in the Forbidden Forest within minutes but Belle…

Belle.

He gazed up at the castle, wondering where she was. He knew she was still alive. He would have known if something had happened…but he did not know anything more. And it galled him.

He had passed the past week in the woods, going out of his mind with worry, but he had to wait. She would come to him when she could.

Then, he had dreamed of the blood and the fire and knew the attack was imminent. Today was the day. He awoke in a bed of leaves, under the dense canopy of trees, and for a moment, he considered staying where he was and letting the end come for them all.

But he knew what awaited Belle if he stayed away. And so he went to the edge of the woods.

Robin’s hut stood still in the dawn’s early light. Rumpelstiltskin eyed the castle but nothing was moving there either. There was not even an owl in the sky.

When he knocked at the hut door, he expected to be met with a wand but not a toddler.

“Whoozit?” the child complained, rubbing at his eyes.

“Roland!”

The groundskeeper had his son in his arms in an instant. “Ah, there’s the wand welcome, I expected,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered as Robin’s wand pointed directly into his face. “Your wards need work.”

“We do not need wards inside Hogwarts,” Robin said testily.

“Might want to rethink that,” Rumpelstiltskin said, screwing up his nose. “You and the boy need to get to the castle and raise the alarm. It’s coming.”

“What’s coming, Daddy?”

Robin did not lower his wand. He knew but he did not want to believe. “Why should I trust you? After what you did to Belle?”

Nerves frayed from weeks of not knowing, of endless nights wondering what had happened, Rumpelstiltskin spit the words at him. “Do or don’t,” he snarled. “This hovel will be the first place they burn. I’ve seen it catch: flames as high as the castle towers, a grand pyre for the two of you and then a pile of ash.”

Robin paled. Slowly, he lowered his wand and gave a jerky nod. Rumpelstiltskin satisfied he would not be hexed, turned back to the woods. He had done his duty. Now, he just had to wait.

The spring morning grew bright but not warm. No breeze dared stir and the entire world felt as if it was holding its breath. They would come at dusk when the shadows were the longest as the sun began its final descent. Hogwarts was the last secure place in Britain, and they meant to have it. To tear it down brick by brick to show there was nothing that could stand in its way.

“Oi!”

Rumpelstiltskin turned to find Robin coming after him. The hut door was firmly closed in the distance with the boy nowhere in sight. Rumpelstiltskin paused, watching as the groundskeeper stalked closer.

“Do you…do you know what happened to Belle?” Robin asked all in a rush. “No one’s seen her since….since you attacked Nolan and the others.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s hands curled at his sides until the talons bit into his palms. “I was the one attacked,” he said carefully. “In the middle of a lesson plan as it happened. And no, I don’t know what happened to Belle.”

She was no longer with the dagger that much he knew. There was an aching hollow where before he had only felt her. He had agonized over who might hold the dagger now and what that might mean for Hogwarts, for Belle, for him.

Robin nodded sourly. “Nolan’s been pretty close-lipped about the whole thing but I don’t blame him. Mary Margaret’s ready to pop any day now. He can’t risk being sent away.”

“I hope the knowledge he may have unwittingly doomed his wife and unborn child keep him up at night,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered savagely. “Tell him the thing he dreads most and wants above all else will happen tonight.”

“I’m no messenger,” Robin said curtly. “I appreciate the warning, really I do but…shouldn’t it be coming from you?”

“Yes, I’ll just waltz up to the castle and inform the witches and wizards baying for my blood that some of them will not be surviving the night.”

The sarcasm went right over the other man’s head. “Jefferson’s been trying to reach you,” Robin said, scratching the back of his neck. “Sending owls out towards the forest but they…uh…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of small rolled pieces of paper. “The Headmistress had me checking the mail ever since…” He did not finish. He simply took Rumpelstiltskin’s hand, dropped the messages into his palm and strode away without looking back.

Rumpelstiltskin made it back to the safety of the woods before he opened the first of many. Jefferson had scrawled letters barely decipherable but the message was clear. Belle was alive.

He opened another one. Jefferson had not thought to date them. All this one said was: ‘Belle Turned.’

He stared at that one for a long moment, unsure what it meant before dropping it to the ground to unroll the next one. All it said was ‘Grace?’

Poor, mad Jefferson, Rumpelstiltskin thought but he could not worry about the man now. He opened another one to find the words ‘Underground Chambers. Third Floor.’

And he knew what he had to do.

\--

Belle had lost count of the days.

There was no window this far below the earth and no one had thought to add a spelled one that overlooked the lake. So, Belle sat at the lone stone bench that was in the room or paced. Sometimes she slept, but she woke fitfully and often so she was not sure if she had fallen asleep or merely dozed off.

Food appeared and disappeared. The chamber pot emptied. But no one came.

She had been here for at least a week. She had started to save the crusts of bread to count the meals, but one of the house-elves must have gotten wise to that as they had all disappeared after the sixth day she had been counting.

She didn’t dare yell or scream. She couldn’t risk them thinking she was insane or corrupted.

Reul had made her doubt her mind but nearly two weeks free from the dagger, Belle was certain of three things.

One, she was going to put an end to Reul Ghorm one way or another.

Two, she was going to take the longest shower known to wizardkind.

Three, she was going to kiss Rumpelstiltskin and tell him she loved him.

Out of the dagger’s sphere of influence, her feelings for him had not wavered or changed. As her aches and pains had faded, her doubts and insecurities had as well. But she could do nothing about it, not trapped here in this halfway-

Something boomed in the distance.

Belle stood, barely breathing, hoping she had imagined it. But another followed and this time the floor shook beneath her feet.

“No,” she murmured, placing a hand flat against the warded door. “No, please not now.”

The gods didn’t seem to hear her pleas. She stood there, listening, but nothing except the occasional shudder made it down to her. She was just starting to hope that she had been wrong when she heard the footsteps marching closer and closer.

She hurried back away from the door and luckily she did. It blew open in a cloud of wood and smoke. Shards of it hit her, striking and biting, but she had managed to get her arm up to shield her face in time.

She lowered her arm slowly as her liberator strode into the room. He was too tall to be Rumple, and for a moment, she thought it was David until she saw the glistening hook at the end of his right arm.

“Ah, the winged maiden,” the wizard said with a smarmy grin. He gestured at her with his wicked hook. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“You found me,” Belle said, standing to her full height. She knew full well she must look a fright but she could not worry about appearances at the moment. “And who are you?”

He bent into a mocking half-bow. “Killian Rogers,” he said, gifting her the name in pride and hubris.

“And what do you want from me?”

“Oh, you…you’re the key that unlocks the vault.” He grinned. “And you’re coming with me.”

\--

The great double doors that led to the Entrance Hall were hanging askew. Every piece of furniture in Hogwarts had been used to keep the doors closed but it had not held. The Darkness had spread through Hogwarts as easily as it had the Ministry.

And yet…there was no bodies littering the ground. No blood splatters. No carnage or gore. Death had come but it had not found anyone to claim, here at least. Which meant Robin had warned the staff in time to evacuate the students.

A goblin sprang out of the shadows by the stairwell, brandishing a spear. More followed, all hissing as they stabbed at him from the safety of a few feet back. Rumpelstiltskin waved a hand and the spears turned to snakes in their hands. All of them shrieked and dropped them but the asps were coiled and striking even as Rumpelstiltskin strolled through as if he was at the park.

The scene occurred again outside the infirmary but this time with inferi. Some were ancient, barely held together by ragged strips of sinew and others…Rumpelstiltskin looked into the face of Victor Whale and his long-dead brother but their eyes were unseeing as they shuffled towards him, only intent on stopping the living from going any further.

Rumpelstiltskin focused on the word in his mind’s eye. Incendio, he thought and the fire burst forth from him all at once. The Inferi shrieked and moaned and hurried back into the safety of the hospital wing.

He could hear battle now, somewhere down by the kitchens and the floor shuddered as something very large crashed to the ground. Giants, he thought with a shudder as he pushed the library door open.

There she lay. Still. Unmoving. Covered in Blood and surrounded by books.

For an instant, it was too much. His blood turned to ice in his veins and his vision narrowed to pinpricks of light but- there! Her chest still rose and her cheeks were red. She still lived.

Standing over her was the Headmistress. She had her wand pointed down at Belle’s head and in the other, she held the dagger aloft. She had managed to return it to its original proportions but her hand did not shake with the weight of the long, jagged dagger.

“So, you came,” she said as warmly as if he decided to join her for tea in the headmistress office. “Rogers thought would but I thought you’d have enough sense to stay away.”

“Ole Crocodile here never had much sense when it came to women,” Rogers said from where was leaning back in the librarian’s chair. He tipped his silver hook to his forehead. “Good to see you again, friend.”

Rumpelstiltskin ignored him. Rogers had been just another lackey for the Darkness in his days. He had risen high. The Darkness clung to him. He looked as handsome as he had four hundred years ago but there was a rotten stench in the air that hung about him. He was dead. He just didn’t know it yet.

“You have what you want,” Rumpelstiltskin said, gesturing at the castle around them. “You’ve won.”

“Not yet,” Rogers said, coming to stand beside Reul. “Not until we have you.”

Rumpelstiltskin bared his teeth. “I didn’t know you cared,” he drawled.

Belle stirred at their feet. Reul and Rogers glanced down for a second, but a second was all he needed. He threw everything he had into a salvio hexia around Belle and extended it to his self. Rogers and Reul’s answering spells bounced harmlessly off until Reul’s fingers curled around the dagger.

There was an answering grip deep in his chest and Rumpelstiltskin faltered.

“Now, now,” Reul chided as she stepped bodily over Belle’s body as the spell fractured around them. “We can’t have that.”

Rogers was kneeling over Belle now. “Get away from her!” Rumpelstiltskin managed through clenched teeth.

“I don’t think I will,” Rogers said, considering. “In fact, after you’re back in hand, I think I’ll cast the Imperius Curse on her and make her do my bidding until I tired of her and threw her away. Might be, I’ll even share her with you.”

Rumpelstiltskin saw red. His magic flared only to be contained as Reul squeezed the dagger hilt again. “None of that either,” she sang. “Stand still, Dark One.”

His body snapped to attention. Reul’s eyes danced in delight. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Yes, I see. This power…it’s incredible.”

“It’s only borrowed,” Rumpelstiltskin managed to grind out. “A child pulling at puppet strings.”

“I’m no child,” Reul said with a laugh. Her eyes were unfocused, pupils dilated as wide as her iris “I can make you dance at the end of your strings or I can cut them.”

In the distance, there was a great roar but Rumpelstiltskin did not dare to look to see what it could have been. “Tell me how you made this,” Reul said as she pressed the tip of the dirk into the hollow of his throat. “Give me the spell and I’ll spare your life.”

He raised his eyes in defiance. “I’ll tell you. But the Librarian goes free.”

“She’s mine,” Roger hissed but Reul silenced him.

“Depends on your answer,” she said. “Now, tell me.”

A trickle of blood ran down his neck where the dirk had pricked his skin. “I made a deal with the Darkness to protect my son but I soon learned the true prize of darkness.” The madness, the whispering. He had been eaten away by the Darkness until only a shell of a man had remained.

“Yes, I feel it too,” Reul whispered. “I would stave it off. Just as you did. Tell me!”

“I went out into the woods on the winter solstice with my son.”

He could still remember Balefire’s hopeful face. How trusting he had been.

“I knew I had to take a life, so I went deeper into the woods than anyone had ever gone. When we arrived, I told my son to close his eyes. Then, I raised the dagger.”

Reul looked feverish as she raised the dagger.

“And brought it down straight into my own heart.”

He had meant to put an end to it. To die before he was lost utterly.

But a single word had risen to his lips, one Rumpelstiltskin the coward had never known but one the Darkness knew all too well.

If killing another is a mortal sin, then turning the blade on oneself…

His soul had been ripped in two, and the second piece had gone into the dagger. The dagger his son had picked up…and had used to bind the twisted creature that had once been his father to the place where one day he might find his salvation.

“Lies!” Reul snarled. She pointed her wand and screamed, “Crucio!”

He had known worse pain but this went on far longer than the spell that had split his soul. When it faded away, he was crouched over on all fours, trying to breathe.

When he looked up, Reul was standing over Belle while Rogers knelt beside her. “No,” he croaked but no one paid him any mind.

“The spell,” Reul said, giving him a choice. In that instant, he knew what had to be done.

He bowed his head and whispered the word.

Reul repeated it and then repeated it before beginning to laugh. “So simple,” she said in amazement. “I should have known.”

She said the word and brought the dagger down.

And the end with it.

May

It galled his Librarian to no end that she had missed the Battle of Hogwarts.

“You should have wakened me,” she chided him, not for the last time as he pushed the wheelchair down towards Robin’s cottage.

“I had my hands full without worrying what you would have done,” he answered back. “The first thing you did when you came to was to try and take down Reul yourself.”

Belle grumbled under her breath. “I didn’t try anything,” she said curtly. “I did.”

Very true. Belle had awakened moments after Reul had driven the dagger into Roger’s chest, but the Darkness had corrupted and festered in him for too long. The lackey had blown away like so much dust in the wind, leaving Reul staring at her fate.

Rumpelstiltskin had been about to spring into action when Belle had cast wandless magic, blasting Reul back into the stacks of books. The witch had crashed through half of them before the rest had fallen on top of her, trapping her in place until the Aurors had arrived, late as usual.

In the end, the Headmistress of Hogwarts had been carted off to a dementor-free Azkaban where the Aurors had set up their temporary headquarters as they worked to bring peace and order back to the Britain wizarding world. But they couldn’t do it alone.

The Darkness had subsided but it still lingered on in the world. He could feel it.

“Rumple?” Belle raised her hand over her shoulder to take his hand in her own. She pulled at him until he stepped around the wheelchair to kneel in front of her. His light was as beautiful as ever even with the scars.

She had told him what happened after Rogers had burst down her wall. The torture. The questioning. And finally blessed unconsciousness. She was still recovering and would be for some time.

He would have killed Rogers if Reul had not beaten him to it.

“Are you sure about this?” Belle asked him for the hundredth time since he had first told her.

He pressed a kiss to her palm. “Yes,” he said. “More than anything.”

Her bright blue eyes searched his own. “I wish I could go with you.”

He leaned in to kiss her, pouring everything he could not say into it. When they broke apart, they both had tears in their eyes.

“Headmistress French?” Regina stood behind them on the path. “It’s time.”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded as he got to his feet. “We were just heading down to Robin’s,” he said.

Regina fell in step beside them. They could see figures waiting for them down in the garden on the edge of the forest. Mary Margaret and David were there, clutching each other and looking miserable but determined. Their daughter had been born amid the bloodshed. They had followed Jefferson’s example and sent her away for safekeeping. As he had foretold, their greatest joy had turned to their greatest sorrow.

Rumpelstiltskin had little pity for them, but Belle had forgiven them everything and vowed to find a way to bring all the children home.

Jefferson was there as well, a bandage still wrapped around his head. The other surviving staff members were up at the castle, working to put it back to right for the students to come back in the fall.

Those who had fallen had been buried in the graveyard under the astronomy tower. Their names inscribed onto plaques at its base so all that gazed at the stars in the shelter of Hogwarts would remember their names: Ruby Lucas. Maleficent. Victor Whale. Archibald Hopper.

It could have read Belle French as well, but it didn’t. To which he was eternally grateful.

“Ready?” Robin said as he joined them at the edge of the wards.

Rumpelstiltskin nodded. He turned back, once more to Belle, and leaned down to kiss her, once, twice-

“Just get on with it already,” Regina grumbled. “If we don’t leave now, we’re never going to.”

He stood. With one last caress of Belle’s cheek, he joined Regina at the wards.

“Go carefully,” Belle urged them. “See what you can discover but come back to us.”

“July first,” Regina said with a nod. “Understood.”

The battle might be over but the war was far from won. The Darkness was still out there, spreading, and he was the only one with the power to understand it, learn from it, and hopefully stop it.

He owed the wizarding world that much.

As for his travel companion, Regina Mills had taken her own sister’s betrayal to heart. She had insisted on accompanying him to bring her to justice. Or so she said.

He cast one last look over Hogwarts. At the castle and turrets. Across the Great Lake shining in the late spring sun and the Forbidden Forest rustling, full of secrets even he had not uncovered.

This was his place but it was not his home.

Home was in the heart of the woman who believed in him above all others and who even now put aside her wants and desires for the greater good.

He stole one last kiss, already missing her before he stepped over the barrier to join Regina.

Belle’s smile was the last thing he saw before they apparated away

But he had seen their future, and he knew he would be home soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so did not get to brit-pick this as well as I would have liked. So if you see something, say something. That goes for grammer/spelling too!


End file.
